


Oasis

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsmooch, Gen, Hugs, Kissing, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-24
Updated: 2008-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings





	Oasis

While the team was split up, John and Ronon thought that Teyla and Rodney died in the exploding Wraith base; as it turns out, Teyla and Rodney thought that John and Ronon had died in the exploding hive ship. So when they all meet up again, it's kind of awkward.

John and Ronon run across the desert landscape towards where Teyla and Rodney are standing, their figures dark against the light, sparkling sand, smoking shrapnel behind them where the Wraith cloning facility used to be.

It's Ronon's fault, really – he's the one who sprints forward, full tilt, and grabs Teyla up and spins her around, laughing as she grips his shoulders and squeezes him back. Then Ronon sets her down, suddenly, and she moves away from him smoothly, like they're dancers who already know all the steps. Then Ronon grabs Rodney up in the same hug, though he foregoes the twirl this time: a big bearish squeeze, lifting Rodney from the ground. Rodney, for his part, looks bewildered as he hugs tentatively back (there's something compelling in the image of Rodney's big, square fingers resting against Ronon's broad shoulders, coming to rest there) but John doesn't see the whole thing go down, because Teyla is walking toward him, arms outstretched.

He's getting better at this, at least. He remembers to hug her back almost immediately this time, getting his hands splayed across her shoulder blades not too long after the hug has commenced. Teyla is really, really good at hugging: she gets her whole body involved in the maneuver, presses firmly, cradles John's body gently in her strong hands. John reminds himself sternly that he loves Teyla, and hugs her back for the eight seconds (he counts them off in his head) that their embrace lasts.

Then – again, as though following some obscure choreography – Teyla and Ronon draw back simultaneously, expectantly, making room among them for John and Rodney to hug.

"Uh," Rodney says, fidgeting. He makes an abortive half-gesture toward John's body, as if suggesting that they might, someday in the future, be close enough friends to shake hands.

"Rodney," John says, nodding at him the way that he always nods at Rodney when one or both of them has defied death. And – he realizes even as his head is still bobbing up and down – that's exactly the wrong thing to do, because Rodney's chin tilts up and his eyes get hard and he steps forward in one long stride that closes the distance between them. Then Rodney's arm wraps across his shoulders, and Rodney's ear is pressing into John's cheek, and John can feel Rodney's body – chest and stomach and thighs – all along his own. Rodney, surprisingly, is like Teyla, good at giving hugs, warm and firm and strong as he hauls John towards him with one hand cupped around the back of John's neck, the other hand sliding tentatively against John's waist.

John hasn't hugged a man in so many years that he's forgotten the mechanics of it, the back-slaps and the physical looseness that the convention demands, so for a moment he just does as he did with Teyla, bringing his hands up slowly to cup Rodney's shoulderblades, feeling Rodney's large hands against the back of his neck and the small of his back as he does so.

He starts to count again, as he did with Teyla – eight seconds seems like a good benchmark hug-time, after eight seconds he can let go – but then, between three and four, Rodney shifts against him slightly, and his lips press, only for a moment, against the spot where John's neck slopes down to his shoulder.

It's not quite a kiss; Rodney's nose is there too, pressing in, and Rodney's lips don't move. It's more like Rodney's just burying himself in John's neck, pushing to get even closer than they are already. But John feels something inside of him break at the touch, as he remembers the dull, empty feeling inside of himself when he thought that Teyla and Rodney were dead. He feels his own forearms strain as he pulls Rodney in even tighter, as he grasps ham-handedly at Rodney's back and holds on as hard as he can, as he lets one hand slip up from Rodney's shoulders to press against the back of his head, to ruffle the hair there, to hold Rodney's head against his shoulder, to caress the soft skin of Rodney's neck with the heel of his hand.

He doesn't know how much time passes, then; he loses count.

When he finally feels Rodney's grip loosening, he hastily loosens his own embrace to match; he doesn't want to be the clingy one. But Rodney doesn't pull away entirely. Instead, he pulls back just enough to cup John's shoulders loosely in his palms, and then – then – leans in to press a swift, soft kiss against John's desert-dry mouth.

John tilts his head up into the brief sensation of Rodney's closed lips against his own.

Then Rodney pulls away entirely, and smiles, and John smiles, too.

Then they walk, the four of them, across the fine, soft sand. The puddlejumper glints in the hard sunlight, gleams like an oasis.


End file.
